


break all the clocks and the mirrors

by rocketdocket



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: Eating Disorders, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Rape Recovery, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:48:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24143881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketdocket/pseuds/rocketdocket
Summary: Ciara is ready for her recovery to be over and her future to begin. Her trauma has other plans.
Relationships: Ciara Brady/Ben Weston, past Ciara Brady/Tripp Dalton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	break all the clocks and the mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is entirely self-indulgent. I've been struggling a lot lately with my mental illness (bipolar), and recovering from an event that happened last year that I struggle to think about or talk about. I deal with my issues through writing and fiction, so ever since I seriously got into the Ciara and Ben storyline, this fic has been bubbling underneath the surface. I technically wrote this two months ago but never posted it. 
> 
> I want to believe in a world where there is life after trauma. That there is love that embraces mental illness and sexual trauma and exists happily. This dialogue may be OOC, but it's the things I need to hear right now.
> 
> If you hate Ben Weston or his relationship with Ciara, this is probably not the fic for you. Hopefully that goes without saying?
> 
> The title is from the song "i can't breathe" by Bea Miller.

Ben was always so gentle with her. From the moment he met her and took care of her in the cabin, carefully cleaning her face with a wet cloth, he treated her like something precious. Someone who had worth and value, and deserved care and respect. She hadn’t felt that in such a long time.

And while she was dating Tripp, she tried to convince herself that’s all it was. Gratitude, and a desperate need to be treated in the way it had been automatic, unquestionable; as easy as _breathing_ for Ben to do. It was his nature — the nature the town of Salem had been too (justifiably) blinded by his former heinous crimes to see.

In the prison system, you serve your sentence and then are released, penance paid. With mental illness… if you’re committed, you’re never free. It’s an open-ended sentence, of which people are never truly satisfied. At what point would he have paid his debt? It was a miracle in and of itself, and a credit to Marlena as a psychiatrist and her unwavering commitment to ethical clinical practice, that Ben was found to be recovered and rehabilitated sufficiently to be released into society. In her mother’s eyes, Ben’s illness was a fundamental flaw in his character, not a combination of psychosis and trauma. There could be no treatment for him. He wasn’t deserving of love or compassion. He wasn’t even deserving of mental health care. To Hope Brady, the only justice would be death, and even that appeared to be insufficient to her.

What Ben did was absolutely unforgivable, but he was also undeniably ill. It shocked Ciara sometimes to see how hypocritical the town could be about mental illness. On the one hand, they spouted support and understanding towards it, but their ignorance and bigotry hurt Ciara to her core. She couldn’t help but compare, perhaps unfairly, the way she had been treated after her trauma to the way Ben had. Trauma made everyone uncomfortable and awkward, but at least in her case she had received some treatment for hers. Ben had no support other than his sister, who had problems of her own. She couldn’t help but feel rather petulantly that it was easy to be understanding of more common and familiar mental health problems such as depression and anxiety, but when it came to the uncommon, uglier, murkier, harmful illnesses... But she was quick to remind herself sternly that depression and anxiety could be just as debilitating as any other mental illness.

The Ben she knew was more kind, caring, and loving than anyone she had ever met in her life. She had never met anyone who went so far out of their way not to make her uncomfortable, especially when they barely knew her. In the cabin, when he gave her the knife for protection against himself, knowing full-well he had no intention of ever harming her, and that she still may very well have used it on him in a moment; when he apologised for accidentally changing his shirt in the same room as her when he thought she was sleeping – she began to feel safe again. And that feeling only grew, the longer she spent with Ben. And then they got together, finally, and she was so happy.

***

Trauma doesn’t care though, if you’re happy.

As often as Ben had shown her he respected her boundaries, Ciara was still terrified about the physical aspects of their relationships. Kissing she could handle, but beyond that? The memories still came rushing in. Ciara was petrified of what that might mean for their new relationship. Was it really _fair_ to allow Ben to be with her, when she couldn’t be with him sexually? A defiant voice inside her confidently declared that she didn’t owe him anything, but a louder voice filled with self-doubt ate away at her being.

Nothing made her more frustrated than the fact her first time after her assault was with Tripp. Hurt by the false accusation she had believed in which Ben had tried to kill her, stripping her once more of trust, she forced her trauma back into a box in her mind. She gritted her teeth and pushed desperately against her fear and pain to finally _do it._ She just wanted to be normal. Whatever that meant. She wanted to be able to trust the people around her in her life. She was so, so tired.

Being with him hurt. Physically, emotionally, mentally... she dissociated while it was happening, trying desperately to claw her way back to the present moment and ground herself. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready. She hid her face from him and cried silently when he finally fell asleep. She wished she hadn’t been cornered into telling Tripp about her assault by Claire. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready. _She wasn’t ready_.

The next morning she clasped his hand and smiled brightly. _Everything’s okay. Maybe if I say it enough times it’ll be true._

Her skin felt prickly and uncomfortable. She felt trapped inside it, like her true self, lost since the assault, was screaming to be let out, banging its fists against her chest. She loved Tripp, and he hadn’t done anything wrong, she didn’t think. It made no sense then why every single time he went to touch her she fought against the urge to jerk away, the hair raising on the back of her neck, fully alert. 

Ben saw, because of course he did. That’s who Ben was. Always so attentive to Ciara’s mindset and her needs. He pulled her aside once, gently asking if she was alright. She burst into tears but said nothing. _Is it alright if I touch you?_ At her tentative nod, he slowly pulled her into is embrace, giving her time to change her mind, carefully watching her face. He kept his arms and hands high on her back, away from her hips. _Do you want to talk about it?_ At the shake of her head, Ben nodded, and the conversation was dropped.

That’s something else that Ben had noticed, since being with her. He knew putting his hands on her hips made her stiffen. He was aware that pushing her up against the wall or door while kissing would make her breath hitch, and not in the good way. He knew that when making out on the couch, she had to be on top of him and not the other way around. He danced the fine line between making her feel attractive and loved by him, and feeling safe and not pressured or violated. And he did it all without her having to tell him. He just knew. It felt like a fever dream sometimes, an elaborate fantasy she had concocted to combat her fears of never finding a lover after her assault.

But she was still terrified. Even after how careful he had been, whenever it started to go further she would get scared. And sometimes too, even while kissing, she had to say _stop_ and push him away. Ben was always quick to respond, immediately backing away, pulling his hands from her and putting them where she could see them. She was so, so grateful.

She wondered when he’d get tired of her.

She was under no pretension that Ben wasn’t absolutely gorgeous, and that if it weren’t for his criminal history, he could be with someone ten times as attractive as she. He constantly reassured her that she wasn’t too damaged to be loved, in fact that she wasn’t damaged _at all_ , but she wasn’t so sure. When would he have had enough? He surely had _needs_. Needs she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to satisfy.

She needed him in her life, so avoiding him to avoid intimacy was not an option. She was already constantly on tender hooks because for some absurd reason he kept thinking they shouldn’t be together because he was a bad person. _Maybe it’s just an excuse, to get out while he can_. Without avoiding him as an option, she knew there was only one other thing to do: overcome or push past her intimacy issues. She was terrified to lose him. She refused to let Chase take one more good thing from her life. She deserved this.

_She deserved this_. Two connotations, and she wasn’t sure anymore which one she meant.

***

She doubled down on her therapy. Ben supported her wholeheartedly, even though she hadn’t told him why, and encouraged her to tell him if there was anything he could do to help her on her therapy journey. He was so, so good. Too good for her.

Marlena was a bit concerned, however. She didn’t think it was a good idea to push herself to overcome and heal from trauma to try and assuage her “fears of abandonment”. Marlena didn’t think having sexual intimacy with someone so as not to lose them was a good enough reason to potentially push Ciara beyond her capabilities to confront trauma she wasn’t ready to face.

Ciara found a new therapist. She didn’t tell him about Ben, only about her trauma and that she was fully ready to confront it. She hid her trembling hands under her, and waited until she left the offices to throw up in the bushes outside, crouched and heaving.

Things took a turn for the worse when she thought about hurting herself for the first time since the assault. She didn’t feel in control of her body. _How was it possible, to want something so badly, and yet your mind bar you from having it?_ She wanted Ben so badly, but she couldn’t be with him like that. She just couldn’t. 

She stopped eating. Ben noticed. Ben made her meals and gently tried to encourage her to eat. He tried to get her to open up about what was happening. She said that therapy was hard and that she was going to speak to her therapist about it next session. She never did.

She cut herself. On her stomach, where no one would see. It bled through her shirt. She hid it and threw it out when she could.

***

Things all came to a head one night in June. The night was hot and sticky – humid, and with it there was a constant thrum in the air of cicadas and discomfort. Ciara’s skin prickled and while she desperately wanted to change into cooler clothing, she felt her fresh cuts like glowing stripes across her abdomen that she had to smother under layers to avoid detection. They pulled slightly when she turned, or the scabs scraped lightly across her top as she moved. In a sadistic way, it felt good. It reminded her that she was _here_ , she was _alive_ , she wasn’t a ghost. Ghosts couldn’t bleed, or hurt. The more weight she lost the more she had begun to feel like an apparition.

They were having “date night” in Ben’s apartment. Ben cooked a chef’s quality spaghetti bolognaise for her, and served it up as if he was her personal waiter for the evening. She laughed at his gallantry and was reminded so much of their start, in the cabin. She was so afraid then, of him. If only she could flash forward and see that he’d become the one person she loved most in her life. _Loved_. The thought should have startled her, but gazing across the table in the candlelight at this man she trusted more than life itself, nothing felt more natural and obvious to her than this. Yes, she loved him.

As the candle flickered between them and his face melted into a gorgeous smile, a look of pure happiness radiating from his being that he reserved only for her, she felt the _want_ rise low in her belly. Tonight was the night. Fuck her trauma. Fuck Chase. She wanted Ben, all of Ben. She loved him, and trusted him. Then why couldn’t she do this?

Their meal finished, they moved to the couch, sipping on red wine. With less than a single glass in her system, and similar in his, she had to work hard to push the nerves down. She refused to imbibe more – this, here, with him, would be consensual. She wouldn’t ruin this.

They kissed. They progressed to making out. Ciara climbed on top of him. Ben pulled away to ask between breaths _Do you want to stop?_ They had never progressed further than this. Ciara could’ve cried with how caring and obviously self-sacrificing he was. He deserved better. He deserved someone whole, someone who could give him what any red-blooded male wanted. She wanted to be that person. She would’ve been that person, before Chase ruined her.

_No, keep going_. She felt Ben hesitate, his hands hovering away from her body as if unsure whether to proceed. But as he kissed him harder and more enthusiastically, he slowly settled back into their momentum, allowing his hands to continue to travel up and down her back.

She reached down and fumbled for the bottom of his t-shirt, tugging it up until he broke their kisses to finish pulling it off and over his head. He chucked it across the room and she giggled at the movement. He smirked as well, before leaning back in to capture her mouth with his. He reached down between kisses to the bottom of her overlapping tops, mumbling _Is this okay?_ Too caught up in her own thoughts, she nodded. He waited until she said _Yes._

Then everything screeched to a halt.

Suddenly, Ciara couldn’t breathe. She felt a single tear roll down the side of her cheek. Ben noticed, of course he noticed. In seconds he wasn’t kissing her anymore. His hands were up on either side of him, in a gesture that surely reminded him of his experiences with the police. This thought only caused more guilt to twist in her gut, wrapping its branches tightly around her stomach with vines creeping around her lungs.

“We can keep going” she gasped between swallows, hastily wiping the single tear from her cheek. She desperately reached for his face, leaning in to pick up where they had left off.

“No, no, Ciara, _Ciara_.” Ben grabbed at her wrists to pull her back from him, and as fast as lightning was rolling her off of him and was crouching down on the floor in front of her.

“Ciara. What’s going on. You’re scaring me here.”

“Nothing— Nothing’s going on. I want to make love with my boyfriend. What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with that, is that you started crying and having a panic attack. That’s what’s wrong with that.”

“Do you not want to be with me? Is that what this is? I know I’ve not been good, but I can be better, I promise, I promise...”

“Ciara. Ciara look at me.” He waited until she met his eyes. He looked heartbroken. It felt strange to her.

“Ciara, you are _perfect to me_. Absolutely perfect. I feel lucky every single day of my life that I get to have you in it, and even more so that I get to date you. You are good, _so so good_. You believe in me and support me against all the reasons you shouldn’t. You are the kindest, most giving person I have ever met. To me, you are _incredible_. I can’t even find the words to express how much I love you.”

“I love you too,” Ciara replied as she started to sob. The fact that this was how they were going to tell each other those precious words for the first time made her cry harder. _At least I get to tell him before I lose him_. “But I can’t give you what you need, what you deserve. I can’t have sex with you. I’ve really tried, but I can’t.”

“Is that why you’ve been going to so much therapy? Oh, baby. The only thing I need from you is to have you in my life. Even _that_ is something I don’t deserve. Everything else you give me I consider a privilege, a gift, not a right. Ciara, you don’t owe me anything. You don’t owe me your body, or sex, or anything you don’t want to do. If we never have sex, _ever_ , in our entire relationship, for the rest of our lives... it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care. I care about you. Being safe, and happy, and comfortable. If you feel like this... it’s not consent Ciara. And I refuse to make you feel even more violated and unsafe than you’ve already felt since it happened.”

Ciara was sobbing harder now. It came out garbled when she replied, “But you can’t mean that though. You have needs, sexual needs, and I’m too fucked up and broken and damaged to give them to you. You shouldn’t be with a disgusting monster like me, Ben. Someone as incredible as you deserves a girl who’s whole, who can give you everything.”

“ _Baby_... you already give me everything. And anything you’re willing to give me, no matter how small, is all I’ll ever need. I’ve never loved someone like I love you, and I don’t think I ever will in my lifetime. You’re not a monster. Hey, you’re not the serial killer here—“ Ben replied with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“— _Former_ , serial killer,” Ciara interjected.

“See! Even there. Ciara, you have the biggest, most caring and empathetic heart in the world. You love me,” Ben paused in awe at the words, “and somehow see me as good and worthwhile, not a monster. You want to be with me. Against all odds.”

“But Ben, it’s not hard to love you. It’s not a burden. It’s so easy to see the light inside you, if you take a moment to really look. _Fuck Salem_ , and your past. The Ben that I know, that I see now, is worthy of the universe,” Ciara said passionately.

“This isn’t about me though Ciara. This is about you. What I need from you right now is for you to tell me what’s happening.”

At the redirection, Ciara started to cry again. “I’m so scared Ben. _So, so scared_ ,” Ciara whispered, tightly clasped hands kneading each other almost violently.

“Of what, baby?”

“I want to be with you. I really do. I want—” she shudders at this, “—to make love to you. I _love_ you. You’re my boyfriend. I should be able to do this.”

Ben waits patiently, understanding that she’s not done. _Always so understanding._

“But I just can’t.” Ciara’s voice breaks at this admission, and it’s like the branches and vines finally break around her chest. A sense of release fills her, as her lungs greedily pull in air amidst her tears.

Ben reaches forward and holds her tightly clasped hands in her lap. “And that’s okay.”

Ciara rips her hands away from his, though, and waves them in the air emphatically, saying, “It’s not though! It’s not okay!”

Patiently and slowly, Ben asks in a soft voice, “Why is it not okay?”

“Because you’re going to leave me. You’re going to realise you deserve better and get bored and want more, and I’m not sure I can give it. And you’re going to _go_ and I love you and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Ciara,” Ben says seriously. “You will never lose me. Not until the day you tell me to go. I love you, beyond words. I will never be bored of you. You can’t have sex? That’s fine. Then I don’t want it. If you don’t want it, then I don’t want it. Simple.”

“But I do want it,” Ciara cries. “I do want it, with you! I trust you. You’re the only one I do trust. But I just— I can’t. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Ciara, baby. There is literally nothing to apologise for. Again, you don’t owe me anything. Certainly not sex. If you want to keep going to therapy to work on your trauma with it, then I support you one hundred percent. But it needs to be for you, not because you’re afraid of losing me. Because I will never leave you. Especially not because of sex. If it’s a dealbreaker for you, then it never needs to enter our conversations again. It’s that simple, to me.”

“Okay. I’m struggling to believe you, but I hear you. It is making me feel better, slowly.”

“Now Ciara... I’m going to ask you something really important,” Ben began with a sense of forced calm. Ciara braced herself for impact, fear rising in her stomach again.

“Is this why you haven’t been eating?”

Ciara paused before nodding.

Ben took a deep breath, clearly expecting the answer but trying to hide how shaken he was by her affirmation.

Ben took a deep breath before continuing. “And are those cuts on your stomach?”

Ciara froze, her face turning pale. She had forgotten. She quickly yanked on her tops, where her stomach had previously lain exposed.

“Ciara,” Ben slowly shuffled forward, before gently taking her hands in his loosely, allowing her to pull away if needed. She clutched on tighter, closing her eyes in a wince.

“I’m so sorry you’ve been struggling with this for so long and I haven’t been there for you. I’m so sorry I hadn’t noticed.” Ciara’s eyes snap open at this, shocked to see a look of agony in Ben’s own.

“What are you talking about? Ben, you’re always there for me. You always know what I’m thinking and feeling, sometimes even before I do. You’re always so respectful of my boundaries and my needs. If you had pushed me on what was going on before, when you noticed my eating, I probably would have shut you out. I wasn’t ready to talk about it then. Not until now, when we really _did_ need to talk about it. Just like you said to me, there’s nothing to apologise for.” Ciara reached one hand forward at this, breaking her hold with Ben’s, to hold his cheek. Ben closed his eyes at her touch, face still etched with worry and pain.

“I love you, Ben Weston, and don’t you ever forget that. Sometimes I feel like you aren’t even real, like something out of a dream. I never thought I could find a love like this, after what Chase did to me. And then I found you. And I never want to let you go.”

Ben’s eyes slowly blink open at this, and he breaks his hold with her other hand to reach up and hold her cheek. “You won’t have to. As long as you want me, I’m here.”

They rested their foreheads against one another for a moment, eyes closed, in silent peace.

“Stay tonight,” Ben said softly, pulling back. “Not for sex, but just to lie next to me. Nothing would make me happier than to sleep next to the woman I love. But only if you’re comfortable, and want that too.”

Ciara let out a relieved sigh. “That sounds wonderful. I want to be close to you... we just might have to sort out some different ways how. At least for now,” Ciara rushed to add.

Ben took her hand, and leading her towards the bed, answered her, “Even if it’s forever. That’s perfectly okay Ciara. As long as you need, even if that answer is ‘ _never_ ’.”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

Ben laughed. “I think I, the _former serial killer_ , should be asking that question.”

As they climbed into bed together, both still wearing their clothes (except Ben, whose shirt was still woefully hidden somewhere in the mess of his place), Ciara allowed a feeling of safety and serenity to encompass her heart and her body. For the first time in weeks, she felt safe. She felt okay, in his arms.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to call Marlena. Speak to her about coming back,” Ciara resolved.

“I didn’t even know you were seeing a new psychiatrist,” Ben replied, and Ciara gently shushed away the guilt she could hear creeping into his voice.

“Let’s just say Marlena didn’t exactly approve of my reasons for tackling my trauma, much like you. And you didn’t know because I didn’t want you to. And you respect my boundaries.”

Ben went to protest again, but Ciara covered his lips with a single finger, shushing him. “I love you, Ben Weston. I’m sorry that was how we told each other the first time.”

“I love you too. And I’m not sorry. Not in the slightest.” At the look of confusion and questioning in Ciara’s eyes, Ben continued. “I’m not sorry because any moment with you is a perfect moment, even when it’s hard. And I want you to know that I love you, _all_ of you, not in spite of what happened with Chase. I love you, _and_ you’re a survivor. That doesn’t make you bad, Ciara, or broken. That makes you strong, and beautiful.”

As Ciara teared up once more, snuggling up to Ben’s chest, he kissed the top of her head. “You never have to hide from me. You never have to hide your tears, your pain, and your worries. _I love you, I love you, I love you_.” And with all the emotional upheaval of the night, it wasn’t long until Ciara drifted off to sleep, those gentle words a chorus in her mind.

***

It was going to be a long road to recovery. She knew that she had to tackle her self harm, and problems with eating, on top of her fears of abandonment, trauma, and feelings surrounding sex. There were going to be setbacks, and pain, and challenges. But Ben was going to be there, to help and support her every step of the way. And with everything she had been through, she knew she was strong enough to face it, day by day.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone reads this to the end, thank you. I hope at least one person out there enjoys this, or finds solace in it like I have in writing it.
> 
> Find me on tumblr: rocketdocket


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